Aaron Mims: Behind The Curtain
by DramaSetter316
Summary: Follow Aaron Mims from the Indie Circuit to the big leagues as he goes through the problems everyone faces in the world of Professional Wrestling. Takes place from 1999 to present day. Some profanity. OC


**This is my new series and my first about the world of professional wrestling... from behind the curtain. From reading this story, you'll will experience a unique, point of view from the eyes of Aaron Mims. A indie wrestler who goes from the independent circuit to the global promotions.**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the companies or brands in this story. How could I?

I go for a Irish Whip to the ropes buthe reverses it for a Bring Back Clothesline. I fell the force of canves hit my back. Then I fell a hand grab my hair and yank me up. I look into the eyes of my opponant. Just when he lifts me up by the throat and SLAMS me on the mat. The lights are bright and the crowd is muffled. There is a ringing noise. I hear a distant sound. Like, someone counted. It's the REFFERIE! I hear a two but I cant raise my arm, it seems to has a mind of its own. Then a three count followed by bell. The crowd is rampant. Loud boo's. I just lost the WWE Championship at WrestleMania.

My name is Aaron Mims. I'm a twenty year old college student from Harlem, New York City. I attend St. John's University in Manhatten. I'm of African and American Indian decent. And I love professional wrestling. Ever since I was a toddler, my family would always say I would be hypontized by it. Why? No idea. I just adore everything about it. The ring, the crowd, the lighting, the stage, backstage, EVERYTHING! I always wanted to be a wrestler, but I'm just tall and sort of lanky. At six feet, two inches and one hundred and fifty five pounds, I'm not the ideal image of a wrestler. I used to wonder what it was like to be a wrestler. In such a strange sport. Where the good guys are disliked and the bad guys are relentlessly followed.

I'm in my dorm room. Me and three friends are watching WrestleMaina 15 with The Rock and Stone Cold headling. I'm with my friends Shawn, Kyle, and Terrence. Shawn is my best friend, but we don't say because it sounds homosexual, or as Terrence would say, "Gay as SHIT". Sometimes it is an embaresment to be around him.

Kyle yelled "Lets go Rock!" before drinking a bit of beer. Shawn, leaning towards to the television, was so focused in the match that he was completely unaware that hiw food was falling on him. Terrence was sprawled out on the floor, sleeping. Me? I was on the edge of my seat. The Rock went for a Rock Bottom was rejected and meet with a Stunner. Mick Foley ran in the ring and counted a pin. We all JUMPED out of our seats and shouted. Me and Kyle was holding our heads shocked by the outcome whilist Shawn was throwing up middle fingers. "Hell Yeah! The Rock Lost! And thats the Bottom Line, 'cause Stone Cold sai-" Kyle interrupted with a "It does'nt Matter what you think!" All this commotion woke Terrence.

That was all we did as college students, we were constantly reminded by our parents that as black men, we need to take our education seriously and all that repeative shit. I could care less about that. All I wanted to do was wrestle. So Kyle, Shawn, and I begin going to the gym. At first, we just stuck to the basics of weight lifting. We worked on the arms. After watching that Bret Hart documentary, we knew to build our arms up. By July, we looked decent. We all decided to work on finding someone to train us. The "basics" of wrestling are pretty easy, considering the "basics" involve mat bumps, high boches, and TV punching and stomping, we let the professionals instruct us to not end our career before it begin.

We contacted a local promotion called Uptown Wrestling Destruction. By the name, I guess you can tell that this is VERY small time. UWD had a speriodic roster. By that I mean you could never tell who would work a show because no one had a contract. Not even the world champion. Every one was paid thirty dollars. Sometimes you'd be paid every other week. It was run by a man named Dean Powell. He was a former wrestler who never made it to the big three, that being Extreme Championship Wrestling, World Championship Wrestling, or my favorite, the World Wrestling Federation.

We walked into his office, which was a portible connected to a warehouse. The warehouse served as the occasional arena. When we entered, all four of us, including Terrence, who was there to spectate, Mr. Powell was on the phone. "SO! Tell George I don't have to put up for his bullshit. I run this place not him! Hang on. Yes?" I walked up and introduced ourself. "Hello Mr. Powell, I'm Aaron Mims and this my cousins Kyle Robinson and Shawn Samuals, and our friend Terrence Cooper. We are looking for a chance at working here." Dean spoke to us from looking at a issue of Pro Wrestling Illustrated. "We have enough crew. Thank you we'll have some openings later".

I could'nt help but feel a little upset that he thought we were janitors. Kyle tried to let him now we're wrestlers. "I'm sure you will have openings but-" "Now listen, I told you we are filled, there are none left". Then Shawn said "Thats not what he-" "I don't follow-" Terrence rudely interrupted "They wrestlers, man!" Dean looked intensely at us. "Your wrestlers?" he said plainly. We agreed and he stated after a pause "Well, I do seem uhh, to be missing some wrestlers. How about you drop by tomorrow and we'll start training. We ironicly start our classes tomorrow." We tried to hold our excitment while thanking him. It only took three months to find a place. And in one day, we will officaly start our road to super stardom.

**I hope it wasn't too boring. I have a good plan for this story. :)**


End file.
